


Stealing You

by 9r7g5h



Category: Wreck-It Ralph (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fiction, General fiction, Literature, Short Stories, prose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9r7g5h/pseuds/9r7g5h
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the revelation on Tumblr that, if you pause the credits at the perfect section during the credits, someone who looks a lot like Turbo is standing in one of the windows of the apartment building. Sorry if this isn’t that good; I’ve been stuck with my writing lately, and this is my first time trying to write Turbo. I still hope that you like it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Wreck-It Ralph. Disney does.

“Cherries from Pac-Man…Eggs from Mario’s…” 

Muttering under his breath as he wrote out the ingredients he would need to make his pie, Felix never noticed the slight creak of the main door as someone pushed it open. Opening the fridge to check and see if he had enough milk, the hum of the machine covered the soft sound of footsteps as they slowly made their way through the living room, making as little noise on the hard wood floor that they could. Standing on the tips of his toes to pull down the bag of flour to see if he would need to pick any up from Sugar Rush, he never realize that someone was standing behind him until the pan that the character had grabbed met with the back of his skull and the quiet chuckle grew loud. 

\-----------

“Wake up, Fix-It. I want you to thee thith.”

Groaning as a pair of rough hands began to shake him, Felix forced his eyes to open, blinking wearily into the bluish light that had surrounded them. Raising his hand to shield his face, he found that they had been tied together, the knuckles of his fists digging uncomfortably into the center of his back. Glancing down at his legs, the same had been done to them, the bones of his ankles grinding against each other each time he tried to move.

“Give up, Fix-It. I might have been a king for fifteen years, but I never forgot how to tie a knot. Bethides, I think you thould be worrying more about where we are than the fact that you’re a little tied up at the moment. In cathe you’ve never been here, here’th a little hint: it’th the life thource of the game, Fix-It. The one place that maketh it all happen. And we’re here.”

“How…” Felix’s word trailed off as he finally took in the room surrounding them, his eyes wide as the pulsing lights made him forget about the rope that bound him. He had never been to the code room before; there had never been a reason for him to go, leaving him awe struck as he finally took in what it was that made his world. “It’s beautiful…”

“Of courthe it is,” Turbo agreed softly as he untied the rope from his waist, allowing it to fall into a tangled heap at his feet. “It’s life, Felix. Life is alwayth beautiful. Ethpecially when you take it for yourthelf.”

“What do you mean, Turbo,” Felix asked, his gaze wary as he watched Turbo stare into the open door, tapping his hands against the metal wall besides him as he waited. “How are you even here?”

“You know why I’m here, Felix,” Turbo replied with a shrug, refusing to take his eyes off of the central box in the middle of the void, the steady blue pulsing of the code mixing with the yellow of his eyes to turn the light around him a sickly green. “I made a mithake, trying to join a game more complicated than my own. But you know, Felix, I’ve realized thomething; I don’t have to be the best racer. I just have to be the best. And you’re the best little fixer in thith arcade. And,” he chuckled as the lights within the room before him finally stilled, converging on box that he had just finished tinkering with, “it looks like the game’th going to accept me.”    

“You’ll die in my game, Turbo,” Felix spat as he watched the character’s form begin to twist and warp, his changes to the code glitching him as blue began to overtake the overwhelming whiteness. “I’ve been playing this game for thirty-three years, Turbo, and I die on a daily basis. All it’ll take is a single brick from Ralph, and you’ll be dead forever. Do you really want to take that risk?” Bowing his head as the light grew brighter, he raised his voice to be heard over the thrumming of the code, the consul itself whining as it was forced to changed what should never have been tampered with. “We were friends once, Turbo. Stop this now, and we still could be! You can live here, in Fix-It Felix, Jr., and we’ll find a job for you to do. You don’t have to plug yourself into the game as a random character to have a home.”

“Who thaid anything about random, Felix,” a familiar voice called from the light, causing Felix to start trembling as a familiar work boot stepped out. “And do you really think I have to worry about death? Fifteen years is a long time in a racing game, and even the most careful of characters will one day make a mistake. I’ve died a hundred times outthide of my own game, and every thingle time, I’ve come back. I guess, Felix, you could thay that I _fixed it_.” 

“No,” Felix whispered as the light finally faded, leaving Turbo standing in the entrance to the game’s code room, his head thrown back and his arms spread wide as he waited for the change to be finished. Turning as the final bit of coding fell into place, it was with a small sigh that a gloved hand fell to his waist, fingering the leather belt that had been threaded through the loops of his dark blue jeans. His other reached up to fiddle with the bill of his hat and play with the neatly parted hair that now covered his formerly bald skull. Facing him, the only thing missing from Turbo’s disguise was a shiny, golden hammer, one that he quickly plucked from Felix’s own tool belt to add to his own. 

“Yes, Fix-It,” Turbo chuckled darkly in Felix’s voice, his footsteps heavy as he walked past the bound character toward the door that would return him to his new game. “I decided that you and your little friendth needed to learn a lethon. That halitothith riddled ape hath to be put back into hith place. He hath to lose everything he’th ever loved, and lose it in thuch a way that he’ll never try to get it back. That glitch hath to die. After what the did to me, I can’t let her live. You have to know that you _couldn’t_ thave the people you loved, that you couldn’t fix it. And as for you wife, Fix-It…I might just keep her for mythelf.” 

Closing the code room door, Turbo waited for a moment to see if Felix’s screams would be audible; it was with a sigh of relief that he heard nothing, a promise that his that little secret would remain safe and sound. Pulling the bill of his hat farther over his eyes, he set off toward the entrance to the game, whistling a happy little tune as he practiced the lines he would say to the woman waiting there for him. 

\-------------

“There you are, Fix-It,” Tamora called as Felix finally came into view, his face apologetic for the fact that he had left her to wait for as long as he did. Holding out her arms, her annoyed glare reformed into a smile as he hopped into them, placing a kiss on her cheek before returning the embrace. “Got worried that something had happened to you, soldier. What kept you?”

“Thorry, thweetheart. Gene had thomething he needed me to fix, and it took longer than I had expected.”

“What’s wrong with your voice,” Tamora demanded as she pulled away, an eyebrow raised as she looked him over. Frowning himself, Felix pulled his hammer from his belt, carefully twirling it between his fingers before tapping it against his temple. Returning it to its place, he gently pulled her in for a kiss, his lips soft and reassuring against her own as he silently promised that he was alright. 

“Sorry, dear,” he said slowly as he pulled away from the kiss, his eyes half lidded as he rested his forehead against her own. “A rogue brick decided that it wanted to meet me, and me without my hat.” His chuckle was soft as his fingers began to play with the hairs at the nape of her neck, his smile growing as he felt the shiver that ran down her spine. “How about we just stay home for tonight, dear? I’m sure Ralph and…and _Vanellope_ will understand if we cancel.” Bending his head so that he could place a kiss against the side of her neck, the most that he could reach while she was still in her armor, a smirk grew across his face as she started to walk back toward the apartment.  

“Sounds good to me, soldier,” Tamora replied as she pulled out her cruiser, preferring to fly to the top of the building instead of trying to climb the stairs or fit into an elevator that had been built for people a third of her size. “You have anything special planned?”

“Oh, plenty, my dear. _Plenty._ ”

Being carried as he was, with his chest pressed against hers and his lips still placing gentle pecks up and down the curve of her neck as Tamora carried them toward the bedroom, ‘Felix’ didn’t stop the harsh, cruel grin that crossed his face as he thought about the counterpart that he had left tied up in the code room. Nor did he try to hide the yellowing gleam that lit up his eyes as he pushed the door closed behind him and his ‘wife.’  


	2. 9r7g5h

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2. Due to popular demand and some very helpful conversations with Reeves and Feesh, I’ve decided to continue this. Not entirely sure where it’s going to go, but either way we’ll have fun with it. Well, _I_ will at least. A HUGE ‘Thank you’ to Reeves for betaing this for me; she had crap to work with, and managed to make it presentable. Despite the quality, I still hope you all enjoy this next chapter of ‘Stealing You.’
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Wreck It Ralph. Disney does.

“Just a little bit more…just a _little bit mo_ \- oh, boo!”

Groaning as the tips of his fingers slipped from the head of the screw he had been trying to work loose, Felix rolled over onto his stomach, pressing the side of his face against the cool metal floor. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he willed himself to calm down and relax, just for little while to give his hands a rest. Then he would try again. He _had_ to try again.

Taking a moment to twist his wrists in an attempt to regain some of the feeling he had lost in the last few minutes, one of his wife’s muffled curses left his lips as the pins and needles started up again, the pressure of the rope a rough reminder on his already broken skin that trying to break his bonds would be no use. Ever since Turbo had left him there, he had tried everything in the book to break free. Nothing had worked. 

All of his hopes hinged on getting that one little Mod darned loose screw free from its oversized fitting. What he would do with it, Felix still wasn’t sure, but at least working toward getting it free was better than sitting there doing nothing. It was all he had left. Trying to scream for help from the sound proof room and attempting to break down the door with his feet had already proven futile. 

His sore throat and the broken bone in his left foot could both attest to that.   

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Turbo’s voice echoed through the hall as the door to the outside world slid open, his disguise flickering away to reveal the real man underneath. Approaching the handyman, he aimed a kick at Felix’s leg, his smirk widening as the yellow of his eyes lit up with delight upon seeing the fixer gasp and pull away. “An enemy all tied up in a bow, lying on the ground just for me? It must be Christmath, because I don’t think I’ve ever had a prettier little present.”  

“What are you doing here, Turbo?”

“I just wanted to check on my favorite prisoner and make thure he was okay,” Turbo replied sarcastically, pressing his hands against his heart as if Felix’s words had wounded him. 

“Cut the boo and answer me,” Felix spat in reply, careful to keep his gaze steady with Turbo’s as he spoke. The quicker he could find out why the former racer was there, the quicker he could get him to leave and get back to work. “What do you want?” 

“I thought I’d bring you a little gift,” Turbo chuckled as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a little scrap of black cloth that he automatically recognized as _hers_. Lifting himself up so he was sitting instead of lying at Turbo’s feet, his voice became harsh and low as he struggled against his bonds.  

“What did you do to Tamora, Turbo,” Felix demanded, his words a growl and eyes dark as he stared at the piece of clothing the racer was holding. “What did you do to my wife?”

“Don’t worry, Fix-It,” Turbo smirked, dropping the pair of underwear into the handyman’s lap as he bent so they were face to face. “I’m taking things thlow with her, tho nothing you haven’t already done before. Though, by the way I made her _scream_ last night, I think we can both agree that I’m better at it then you are.” Leaning forward, Turbo put on a mocking pout as he took in the rage on Felix’s face, his clenched teeth bared in a silent snarl as the racer continued to talk. “Poor little Felix,” Turbo continued to taunt, his voice childish and high. “He doesn’t like it that me and hith pretty little wife fu-”

It was Turbo’s turn to squeal in pain as Felix’s forehead connected with his mouth, sending him reeling backward clutching his face as Felix struggled against his bonds. He was no longer thinking about the screw behind him that he had been working on loosening. He had no plan, no main goal that he was working toward, nothing more than a desire to get free so that he could continue what he had started. His vision tinting red as the blood that streamed from the broken skin of Turbo’s lip became his main focus, Felix’s only want right then and there was to find as many ways possible as he could to make the racer bleed even more. 

“You stupid, eight-bit fool,” Turbo spat as the tip of his steel-toed boot connected with Felix’s chest, forcing the air from his lungs as his back slammed against the metal wall behind him. “You’re going to die anyway, but do you have a death with for her too?” 

Bringing his foot down again, Felix cried out as he felt his rib crack, the sound of it snapping ringing in his ears along with Turbo’s laugher. Pulling his foot away, Turbo gently wove his fingers through Felix’s hair, the movement almost comforting until his grip tightened. Yanking him up so they were face to face, Turbo’s cruel, bloody grin grew as he picked from his pocket the switchblade that Felix recognized as Tamora’s, the one she always kept just in case she ever ran out of ammo.

“Your wife trusts me, Fix-It,” Turbo spat, flecks of blood flying from his lips to splatter on Felix’s cheek. “She trusts _you_. Didn’t even think to question me when I asked to borrow this. Tho, how do you think she’ll look when I stab her with it?”

“Stay away from her, Turbo,” Felix growled lowly, the taste of copper and salt coating his tongue as he talked. “Stay away from her, or else.”

“I’d like to see what your ‘or else’ is, hero,” Turbo said with a genuine grin. “Tho _make me_.”

Slamming Felix’s head back against the floor, Turbo stood and pulled out the golden hammer that he had stolen and tapped it against his face, healing the still bleeding lip that the handyman had given him. Storing it back in his belt, he stopped as his attention was caught by the black ball of cloth that had rolled out of Felix’s lap during their rough housing. Poking it for a moment with the tip of his shoe, he finally made up his mind. Picking it up, he returned to the fixer’s side, stuffing the pair into Felix’s pocket before finally getting ready to go, his disguise shimmering back into place as he stood by the exit. 

“Don’t say I never did anything for you, Fix-It,” Turbo laughed in Felix’s voice. “I can promithe you this: if I don’t kill her, I’ll take care of your wife for you. I’ll take _very_ good care of her.”

Closing the door behind him, the lights once again began to dim as Turbo left, leaving Felix curled in the almost darkness as he struggled to breathe. Swallowing the bile that had risen in the back of his throat, a low grown escaped him as he started to move, forcing his aching muscles to flip him over as he rolled back to the spot he had originally started in. Pausing as a deep, racking cough stopped him, not even the absence of light could keep him from seeing the dark droplets that had splattered on the floor, nor could it cover the metallic taste that had invaded his tongue when his lungs had finally cleared enough that he could breathe once more. Twisting round one more time, he didn’t even bother to try and hide the pain as his fingers found the one little bump in the otherwise smooth surface, his gasps slowly forming into words as he worked. Whispering them quietly in the darkness, they became his prayer to the moderator as he tried to get that damn screw loose.

“Just a little more…just a little more…please, _Mod,_ just a little bit more.”


End file.
